


On the Fifth Night

by chains_archivist



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Boys in Chains, M/M, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:15:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chains_archivist/pseuds/chains_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by AZARAD</p><p>Oldroyd must distract the Spanish officer on duty while Archie renders aid to Horatio suffering down in the punishment hole</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Fifth Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Dusk, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Boys in Chains](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Boys_in_Chains), which opened in 2000 as a multifandom archive for both fiction and art, but then sadly went offline in 2005. To bring the archive back, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2014. Open Doors [posted an announcement](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/1832) and e-mailed all creators about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please [contact the Open Doors committee](http://transformativeworks.org/contact/open%20doors).

"Listen here, all of you," Archie hissed in a sharp whisper. "I think he'll die if we don't do something. I've been down there. So, I know."

"Aye sir," Styles agreed. "Mr. 'Ornblower's been in the 'ole five days now. An' them stinkin' bastards ain't given 'im nufin' ta eat ner drink."

"You lasted a month, Mr. Kennedy," Matthews said, slowly. "Ow'd yer manage, sir?

"Spring rains, men. I had the benefit of springtime. And, a Spaniard who struck a bargain with me."

"Wha' sorta bargain, sir?" Oldroyd asked innocently, his brow furrowed from the effort to puzzle out Mr. Kennedy's cryptic comment.

"The kind of bargain we're going to offer him again, Oldroyd," Mr. Kennedy whispered.

Archie gathered the men closer and changed the subject back to their own leader's plight.

He explained, "Our Mr. Hornblower is suffering the full heat and drought of summer. I'm afraid he'll not last another day without assistance."

"If 'e's dead a'ready, sir," Styles began. Then he mumbled a string of vile curses upon their Spanish captors.

"I'm ta blame, mates," Oldroyd confessed shaking his head. "T'was me, followin' a sawdust fer brains sort like Mr. 'Unter. That's wha' got Mr. 'Ornblower trapped down aire."

Styles reached over and sharply rapped the younger man's blond and curly head. At the same time, he said, "Then, I figger ye're the fella ta do something to 'elp 'im out!"

"Na 'nother 'scape attempt!" Oldroyd exclaimed.

Archie hissed, "No! We are not going to offer the Spaniards something as amusing as kicking dust onto all our heads."

"Do you suppose they'll bite at the bait?"

"They've taken this sort of bribe before. That is, as long as they desire the man offering the favor."

Styles poked Oldroyd in the ribs. He growled, "Smile pretty, me lad."

In the gloom, Oldroyd's eyes were round as saucers. With the last revelation, they popped wider yet. After a few pats on his back and some advice from Styles, Oldroyd walked to the door of their cell and waited. They heard the click of the door being unlocked and a young guard stepped inside. Gesturing, the Spaniard indicated to Oldroyd to follow him. A glance back revealed the cell door open. Oldroyd took a deep breath and followed his captor.

They walked toward the commandant's quarters. Oldroyd wiped sweat from his palms along the sides of his striped cotton trousers. He sniffed the air and caught his own reek. None of them had washed in more than a month. Oldroyd felt a hand on the small of his back. He jumped.

"Entra, joven..."

"No speakie spanyoli."

"No importa, Ingles."

Oldroyd felt hands on his shoulders and fingers in his hair. The room they had entered was black as the hold of the Indy. Silk wound around his head covering his eyes. Another strip around his throat collared him. The soft, smooth fingers of his unknown companion dragged him forward. His legs were kicked out from under him and Oldroyd fell to his knees.

The strip of cloth around his throat was twisted tightly. A thick thumb pried open his mouth and felt his teeth. Another hand grabbed his arm and placed his left hand firmly on one narrow hip. His right hand caressed a lean leg and a tight buttocks. The man he was holding was breathing hard and exuding a strong male scent. Oldroyd swallowed and licked his lips. Then his face was pressed to the task before him.

At least the man's flesh was clean. His organ was upright and moist with desire. Thankfully, Oldroyd thought, the act would be over soon. Then, Oldroyd realized that his friends needed as much time as he could buy them.

He groaned from the effort of thinking and trying to breathe the heated musk in the air. Then, Oldroyd bent his head. Instead of immediately engulfing the thick shaft, he pressed his lips to the wide head and teased salty droplets from the sensitive opening with the tip of his tongue. He heard the man murmur soft words. He felt fingers tangle in his hair.

The man began a hard thrusting and Oldroyd relaxed his throat, hoping he wouldn't be gagged. Even so before long, he was lightheaded from lack of clean air. The silk around his neck had tightened and he saw bright flashes behind his eyelids. His eyes were wet.

Oldroyd thought of Mr. Hornblower, tall and proud on the parade ground of the inner court, taking responsibility for his men, shielding them from the torture of the pit. Instinctively, Oldroyd forced his mind's eye to stay on the horizon. He resisted the nausea and dizziness that crept over him.

Without warning, a flood of seed covered his tongue and spilled from his mouth. Helplessly he swallowed and coughed and swallowed more. The man was gasping and moaning and thrusting out the last of his pleasure.

Then the man leaned against him, gentle fingers stroking the soft curls of the Englishman. The smooth palm of a gentleman's hand stroked Oldroyd's rough cheek. The rim of a wine glass was lifted to his lips and Oldroyd swallowed the sweet fragrant liquid.

"Muy dulce, Ingles."

Oldroyd didn't speak. He waited on his knees. Long moments later, he was dragged to his feet and led back to his cell where his guide removed the blindfold.

The Spanish guard gave Oldroyd a little push and he fell forward into the arms of his waiting friends. A big strong arm caught him around the waist and eased him through the press of the others to the lower bunk. Mr. Kennedy brought him a cup of their precious water.

"Here, drink this," he ordered.

"I'm all right, sir," Oldroyd protested, sitting on the edge of the bed and pushing the cup away. "The man gave me a glass a' wine."

With fatherly affection Matthews said, "Ye're a great woolly lamb, Oldroyd. Soon I suppose they'll be feedin' ye' cake and plooms."

"Wha' I need ta know is," Oldroyd whispered, "how is our Lieutenant 'Ornblower, sir?"

"Very glad to see us," Archie said smiling. "We poured water into him. Then he ate a little bread. I told him to hide what we gave him and eat it later. I didn't want him throwing it all back up."

"My little discomfort were worth it then?"

"You saved him, Oldroyd."

"Must I go again, do you think?"

"Thirsty s' soon, ye great calf?" Styles asked.

Oldroyd's pale eyes narrowed and he took a swing at Styles who ducked under the blow. Styles jabbed Oldroyd in the ribs and they grappled on the bunk.

"Noon a' that," Matthews hissed, pulling them apart and glaring at both of them like a father sorting out brothers.

Then Matthews jerked his thumb over at Mr. Kennedy. He was staring out the window again. Staring at the deep hole in the earth, the hole covered by an iron grate.

"Have a care, lads," Matthews said softly. "Our Mr. Haitch ain't outta danger yet."

By mid morning, the sun had turned the courtyard into a furnace. Archie kept the watch and hoped Horatio remembered to strip down and use his jacket to block the sun's rays. It was crucial to waste no energy. The heat sapped at the body. The pain endured in the cramped space allowed the body no rest.

Archie remembered his own daydreams, pleasant visits to his mother's garden. The refuge had seemed so real. His mind retreated there when the cramps in his legs became unendurable. Only when his captor dragged him up for their moonlight liaisons did Archie return to his suffering body.

Those events with his Spanish captor seemed like dreams to Archie too. The man was far kinder than Jack had ever been. The Spaniard never spoke harshly. He never struck him. Archie was never bound except by a collar of silk around his throat and a blindfold covering his eyes. Afterwards, the man fed him and gave him wine and opium. The bed where he rested seemed as soft as clouds. The man stroked him with angel's wings. Then Archie would awake in his prison, his body numb.

"Horatio?" Archie called within his mind. "Can you hear me?"

There was only silence. Archie wondered if such things as spirit travel really occurred. He wanted to believe. He wanted to cross the short distance to the hole and give his friend the comfort he needed for his survival. Horatio would never accept the Spaniard's bargain. He would die before submitting.

"Oh Horatio, don't be so stubborn," Archie thought. "What good is a pure heart when it no longer beats?"

"Sir?" Matthews said softly. "Ye' moost eat a bite, sir."

"Thank you, Matthews. I'll try."

The End


End file.
